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I woke up the next morning to Nolan and Hobson sitting quietly, their eyes red and resting in a bowl of dark skin. They had told me they weren’t easy sleepers but it looks like they tried to no avail. Hal was waking up just as I was and we didn’t waste anytime stretching, just collected our things and got back on the road heading north.
No one said anything because there was nothing to say. Nolan and Hobson assured us that the night was quiet and I wasn't in any position to question them further. Not yet. Not so soon.
The day was actually beautiful, the sky bright, the clouds thin enough so that we could see the shape of the sun over the lake. That’s how we were able to spot the man sitting at the end of the pier after only walking half of a mile. He sat with his legs straight out in front of him, propped up by his elbows.
“Excuse us?”
He turned without surprise. “Morning.”
Nolan nodded and didn’t transition into asking the usual.
“Can’t say I’ve been many places but here,” the man said, looking back out over the still, gray lake, “But if ya’ll are looking for a place to stay you’re more than welcome.” We looked at him and at the pier, wondering what exactly he was offering. He pointed behind him to a shack that I didn’t even notice, saying, “Syrah, she’s a sweet lady. She’d be happy to have you. Otherwise if you’re just looking for answers, I’d expect her to have them.”
We didn’t have much time to observe past that there were maybe eight or so other people in there. Not including Syrah. Soon as we opened the door she powered through everyone else straight to us with a spirit better left for a mass Sunday sermon or children’s television program.
“Helllllooooooo! Hello, hello, hello! My name is Syrah, welcome! Welcome! How are you?”
I look at the others, specifically Nolan whose level of comfort just fell to the floor and shriveled to nothing. I tried not to laugh as I looked back at Syrah and said, “Just fine, ma’am, thank you. We-” I was cut off as Syrah spewed a complaint about our state of clothes, insisting she help us find something better to wear. I looked around to see all the other patrons wearing the same type of clothing we were, only clean. I nodded at her and said no, but thanks. "We're on our way north right now and-"
Her lips bounced and her tongue danced as she asked us where up north in more words than needed.
Hal spoke up, “Hart’s Mill. You heard of it? That’s where we’re going and-”
“Oooh! I hear it is beautiful up that way, just beautiful! I have never been but I’ve only heard good things!”
“Okay,” Hal said, “Well, do you know what might be the quickest route to get up there?”
“A map!” she squealed, making Nolan and Hobson jump and come back down irritated. She was waving her fingers at Hal’s map as if trying to make it float over to her. Hal handed it to her and she put a long shaky finger against it, pointing at the main highway that led from where we were straight up to Hart’s Mill. “Yes take this road, see this road? This road goes from right here,” she pointed to where we were, “to right here,” and she pointed to Hart’s Mill.
Hal sighed and Nolan grumbled with impatience.
“Okay,” I said. “So that road…what do we need to know about that road?” She cocked her head with a big grin, waiting for me to go on. “Any obstacles you know of, anything we should expect?” Stupid question but anything helped.
Her eyes grew wide as she smiled bigger and reminded us that it was the post-apocalypse and chuckled. A strange chuckle. Nolan and Hobson were looking at this woman as if sparks might start shooting out of her ears at any second so me and Hal gave our gratitude and walked back out. Syrah walked to the front door behind us and waved us off with a senselessly long goodbye, yelling until we were too far to hear.
In a way, listening to Syrah's voice drift off into the distance shot an unwanted warmth through my body and I had to fight a bizarre urge to run back to her and give her some more of my time. It was my mother's voice that ran through my head next, gently howling instructions at my father as we walked off into the rugged city ahead. She would be reminded my father thrice over how long we should be out, what we need to collect and a list of the things we would NOT be doing today. The list of restrictions sang out tenderly in my head until we eventually came upon another building that the guys had decided to check out without my vote.
Hobson and I went to the door and knocked, knocked again, no answer. I shook the knob and the door fell open without a sound. And the day was getting brighter and brighter until the thunder. Or what I thought was the thunder. Just after the thunder rolled past, the ground shook and we all looked towards downtown, see a ball of orange and gray float to the sky. An explosion, its origins a mystery and we intended to keep it that way, ignoring it, pretending it didn’t happen. But it did happen and even if we did start to avoid danger to the best of our abilities, it might just find us anyways.
Hobson turned back and walked into the cold, bleak and empty darkness ahead, scanning the ground for anything, lifting sheets of metal and planks of slivered, moldy wood. As he did that, I kept my eyes glued to the rocket launcher with a twisted sort of reassurance.
I woke up the next morning to Nolan and Hobson sitting quietly, their eyes red and resting in a bowl of dark skin. They had told me they weren’t easy sleepers but it looks like they tried to no avail. Hal was waking up just as I was and we didn’t waste anytime stretching, just collected our things and got back on the road heading north.
No one said anything because there was nothing to say. Nolan and Hobson assured us that the night was quiet and I wasn't in any position to question them further. Not yet. Not so soon.
The day was actually beautiful, the sky bright, the clouds thin enough so that we could see the shape of the sun over the lake. That’s how we were able to spot the man sitting at the end of the pier after only walking half of a mile. He sat with his legs straight out in front of him, propped up by his elbows.
“Excuse us?”
He turned without surprise. “Morning.”
Nolan nodded and didn’t transition into asking the usual.
“Can’t say I’ve been many places but here,” the man said, looking back out over the still, gray lake, “But if ya’ll are looking for a place to stay you’re more than welcome.” We looked at him and at the pier, wondering what exactly he was offering. He pointed behind him to a shack that I didn’t even notice, saying, “Syrah, she’s a sweet lady. She’d be happy to have you. Otherwise if you’re just looking for answers, I’d expect her to have them.”
We didn’t have much time to observe past that there were maybe eight or so other people in there. Not including Syrah. Soon as we opened the door she powered through everyone else straight to us with a spirit better left for a mass Sunday sermon or children’s television program.
“Helllllooooooo! Hello, hello, hello! My name is Syrah, welcome! Welcome! How are you?”
I look at the others, specifically Nolan whose level of comfort just fell to the floor and shriveled to nothing. I tried not to laugh as I looked back at Syrah and said, “Just fine, ma’am, thank you. We-” I was cut off as Syrah spewed a complaint about our state of clothes, insisting she help us find something better to wear. I looked around to see all the other patrons wearing the same type of clothing we were, only clean. I nodded at her and said no, but thanks. "We're on our way north right now and-"
Her lips bounced and her tongue danced as she asked us where up north in more words than needed.
Hal spoke up, “Hart’s Mill. You heard of it? That’s where we’re going and-”
“Oooh! I hear it is beautiful up that way, just beautiful! I have never been but I’ve only heard good things!”
“Okay,” Hal said, “Well, do you know what might be the quickest route to get up there?”
“A map!” she squealed, making Nolan and Hobson jump and come back down irritated. She was waving her fingers at Hal’s map as if trying to make it float over to her. Hal handed it to her and she put a long shaky finger against it, pointing at the main highway that led from where we were straight up to Hart’s Mill. “Yes take this road, see this road? This road goes from right here,” she pointed to where we were, “to right here,” and she pointed to Hart’s Mill.
Hal sighed and Nolan grumbled with impatience.
“Okay,” I said. “So that road…what do we need to know about that road?” She cocked her head with a big grin, waiting for me to go on. “Any obstacles you know of, anything we should expect?” Stupid question but anything helped.
Her eyes grew wide as she smiled bigger and reminded us that it was the post-apocalypse and chuckled. A strange chuckle. Nolan and Hobson were looking at this woman as if sparks might start shooting out of her ears at any second so me and Hal gave our gratitude and walked back out. Syrah walked to the front door behind us and waved us off with a senselessly long goodbye, yelling until we were too far to hear.
In a way, listening to Syrah's voice drift off into the distance shot an unwanted warmth through my body and I had to fight a bizarre urge to run back to her and give her some more of my time. It was my mother's voice that ran through my head next, gently howling instructions at my father as we walked off into the rugged city ahead. She would be reminded my father thrice over how long we should be out, what we need to collect and a list of the things we would NOT be doing today. The list of restrictions sang out tenderly in my head until we eventually came upon another building that the guys had decided to check out without my vote.
Hobson and I went to the door and knocked, knocked again, no answer. I shook the knob and the door fell open without a sound. And the day was getting brighter and brighter until the thunder. Or what I thought was the thunder. Just after the thunder rolled past, the ground shook and we all looked towards downtown, see a ball of orange and gray float to the sky. An explosion, its origins a mystery and we intended to keep it that way, ignoring it, pretending it didn’t happen. But it did happen and even if we did start to avoid danger to the best of our abilities, it might just find us anyways.
Hobson turned back and walked into the cold, bleak and empty darkness ahead, scanning the ground for anything, lifting sheets of metal and planks of slivered, moldy wood. As he did that, I kept my eyes glued to the rocket launcher with a twisted sort of reassurance.